The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

Elliott said. “If he had changed history, our frame of reference would not be to Booth and the assassination. Matter of fact, we wouldn’t care whether he went back in time at all.”

“Booth traveled around. Braham will have a hard time finding him, especially if Lincoln sends him out on another mission.”

“We have a small window of time to stop him,” Jack said.

“We? I’m not going back. I don’t understand how the magic works, and I might not be able to return.”

“Char, you don’t have to go,” Jack said. “I will.”

Charlotte jumped up. “No, you won’t. I’ll never see you again. You’re too impulsive, Jack. You do things without considering the repercussions. History will change because you’re there snooping around. I won’t let you go.” She paced the room. “What I don’t understand is why we have identical brooches. Are there others?”

“There’s one more,” Elliott said. “An emerald.”

Jack’s face tensed with excitement. “How do you know?”

“When Meredith and I met, we discovered my great-great-great-great-great—”

“I read your story in a magazine article last night,” Jack said.

“So it makes you the last MacKlenna, even though you carry another name,” Charlotte added.

Elliott smiled. “Not anymore. Our son, James Cullen, is the last.”

“To answer your question, the MacKlenna family has one of the brooches. The Mallorys have another. Do we have a family connection?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Elliott said. “Mallory is Irish, not Scottish.”

“We’re Ulster Scots,” Jack said.

“From the lowlands. The MacKlennas are from the Highlands. Meredith is the genealogist in the family, and her cursory research last night didn’t unearth a connection. If there is one, she’ll find it, though. Where did yer brooch come from?”

“It was mailed from a law firm in Edinburgh,” Charlotte said. “I haven’t contacted them.”

“If ye’ll give me the address, we’ll check it out when we go to Scotland for the holidays. I have a feeling our lines will connect at some point.”

“Find the other one and destroy them all,” Charlotte demanded. “They’re dangerous. I wish I’d never opened my mail.”

Jack put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, sis. We’ll find a solution.”

“Let’s go home.” Her voice sounded thick to her own ears.

Elliott handed Jack a business card. “Send me the address and any other questions ye have.”

“I’m not sure I trust the topic to email.”

“Ye have a secure system and so do we,” Elliott said. “David made sure of it.”

Jack’s face pinched with clear irritation. “How do you know?”

“As I explained earlier, we investigated Braham’s story. Ye were part of the investigation.”

Jack’s face relaxed. “I would have done the same. Is there anything else we need to know?”

Meredith and Elliott exchanged significant glances. He squeezed her arm affectionately. “No. Nothing else.”

They escorted Jack and Charlotte to the front door. “Yer vehicle should be parked in front of yer house by the time ye get home. When we learned ye had chartered a jet, we took the liberty of having it delivered. If ye decide to go after Braham, please let us know.”

“We’re not going,” Charlotte repeated, shaking her head.

Jack shook Elliott’s hand. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Charlotte and Jack drove away, both lost in their own thoughts. Not a word was uttered between them during the drive back to the airport. Jack returned the rental car, and they walked over to the private plane terminal and boarded their plane, which was already standing by.

About a half hour into the flight, Jack said, “We have to go, Charlotte.”

“No, we don’t,” she said. “The stone is dangerous, and so many things could go wrong. We don’t know how it works, or why, or where it could take us next. I don’t trust it, and you shouldn’t either.”

“I do trust it, and I’ll go by myself.”

“That. Will. Never. Happen.”

Something flickered deep in Jack’s eyes, and he shook his head slowly. “Then you’re responsible for whatever happens to Lincoln and the history of disenfranchised people in the United States.”

She glared at him, struggling to find words necessary for a coherent rebuttal, but none came, and she gave up. “You can’t blame that all on me.” She punched down on the arm of the seat. “You’re brilliant, successful, drop-dead gorgeous, but you’re impulsive and spontaneous. You act on whims, and, while it makes for great fiction, in real life, actions can have unintended and disastrous consequences.”

She tapped her chest with her fingertip repeatedly, and swallowed against tears. “You’re unaware of the stress and consequences you cause me, or the impact your thoughtless choices have on my life. On me.”

Charlotte turned to stare out the window at the beauty and calm of the blue sky while she tried to breathe through her urge to either sob or scream.

When her breathing returned to normal, she continued. “I thought the monastery would help you learn to see more than one step ahead. Instead, all it did was provide coping skills to deal with regret and remorse when you finally realize you messed up. Again. Like two days ago.” She turned in her seat and faced him squarely. “Braham needed a buddy. I’m not his buddy. I’m his doctor. You two were getting on famously. But you were focused on your new book proposal. I ended up with him in Washington when you bailed, and it was an upsetting day for him. You let him down, Jack. You let me down.

“I have a very inflexible schedule. I couldn’t be there twenty-four/seven, because I work at a job where I have no control over when I’m needed. I was counting on you to help acclimate Braham to this time, to technology. I wanted you to make him want to stay. And what did you do? You left him by himself and now he’s gone.”

Jack’s face was a billboard of remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“You’re full of regret now. But if you had taken the time to think about the impact of your actions on anyone else…” She threw up her hands and swallowed hard again. “Forget it. Some day you might learn to base your decisions